


The Party

by Happyorogeny



Series: The Drow [5]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Gen, Jarlaxle likes to host social occasions, M/M, alcohol mention, blood mention, it makes him feel fancy, torture mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 21:10:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18432173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happyorogeny/pseuds/Happyorogeny
Summary: Jarlaxle was rather enjoying the party. A shame the assassin was going to ruin it.Not Artemis, the other one.





	The Party

This was such a lovely party. Jarlaxle had made sure of it, hiring in a five man band and opening the fourth best wine cellar for his men to drink themselves silly. Two hundred drow were capable of creating quite the racket and he had situated himself right in the centre of it, stretching out artfully on a low couch of silver cushions to make eyes at the lead bard. 

A shame the assassin was going to ruin it. 

Not Artemis, the other one. 

That Artemis had appeared at all was a surprise, a delight and possibly a problem. It might well frighten Sya’n out of his ill-advised attempt at a coup, him and the twenty or so midtier fighters that he had managed to sway to his side. 

Jarlaxle was rather irritated by the development, truth be told. He had plucked Sya’n out of the smoking ruins of his house and hidden him away from those who would have him dead. Though he had received payment in full, Jarlaxle considered himself shortchanged if he didn’t manage to grab some shell-shocked warrior or shivering mage for his band as well. He didn’t expect undying loyalty- drow were drow, after all- but he did appreciate a little bit of gratitude and just a touch of consideration. He had been gradually seducing the bard Zai for the past three months, and an attack would surely ruin any chance of things progressing towards a private solo. 

If this attack was to be baited out it best be tonight. He had two balls to crash within the next twelve hours, three assassinations to order and one kidnapping to arrange. Well, less of a kidnapping and more of an extraction. The man wanted out of his house and had a noblewoman mistress, Pyria, in a higher family willing to take him in. It was almost romantic, really. 

In return, Pyria had demanded a duel in an opposing house. Jarlaxle had full faith in her ability to triumph, particularly with a feisty new consort fighting by her side. What a shame he wouldn’t be able to watch! No, he couldn’t be seen anywhere nearby. One of their informants hung in chains in the house dungeons, and Jarlaxle needed as much plausible deniability as he could get away with. 

_What, me? Arrange a daring rescue? Never. He must have slipped the bonds himself._

A group of his stealthiest men waited even now in the streets around the house, ready to move at the first sign of combat. Poor Delan had already been there three months. Their spy was a strong fellow but imprisonment and torture wore down even the brightest spirit. If they didn’t get him out soon, his body and mind would give out under the stress. Even as it was the man would be out of commission for months.

If only he had had something to blackmail them with! Jarlaxle had secret information or shameful family history for almost everyone down here, but this particular clan had managed to evade all his attempts at discovery. Perhaps he could convince Pyria to carry on after her duel and attack them proper, amalgamate their house into her own-

He flexed a hand thoughtfully and flinched as a red hot spiderweb of pain lanced up his arm. The outer bone of his left forearm was only recently healed, and it ached as of yet. One tended to build up a resistance to healing potions over time. Artemis had noticed him flinch, despite being perched two floors up behind a balcony railing. Jarlaxle considered it a victory that he had come so close to the party at all, rather than retreating into the depths of the fortress to escape the noise. But no, now he leaned forwards a little bit and frowned down at him. Jarlaxle lifted his glass in acknowledgment and could almost hear him sigh in frustration. 

_Thanks for giving my location away, idiot._

Indeed, Artemis was rather short on quiet places to perch. Jarlaxle's men had separated themselves out into little groups around the hall. Some of the drow had plainly settled in for the evening, gesturing and chattering in the midst of their groups. Others wandered. A few of them had gradually drifted closer to him over the course of the evening, feigning the high-spirits of inebriation. He finished the last mouthful of wine and told himself that it had simply gone sour in the bottle. 

Two of his younger fighters whirled past in a clatter of practice swords, laughing and nearly taking his hat off. Drow dancing looked very much like fighting, particularly among the men. But he was pleased to see some of them testing the boundaries a little- Malai was dancing in the fashion usually only performed in front of women, a kind of provocative and athletic whirl that involved balancing a sword on the head and spinning it around the limbs. The dance usually ended with all ones clothes cut off. Or the fingers if one didn’t time the tosses and catches correctly. One of the younger healers tossed blood-fruit so that he could cut it with each pass.

A good number of genuinely excited mercenaries clustered around the musicians, plucking curiously at the musical instruments and squabbling with one another as they made requests for songs. Zai looked a little overwhelmed but was handling their enthusiasm surprisingly well. Male bards were rare. While male music was all fine and well, it wasn’t considered an art form the same way the music of women was. Women made art, men made noise. 

He shifted carefully upon the low couch and offered Zai a lazy smile. He really was very handsome, with big eyes and a straightforward manner as refreshing as cool night air. Or what he imagined cool night air felt like.

S’ayn shifted behind one of the supporting stalactite towers, stretching up towards the roof of the main hall, and vanished. Became completely invisible. Jarlaxle stiffened. He know how much his mid-tier fighters were paid. It wasn’t enough to afford invisibility potions that powerful. Someone had given it to him. 

A dozen yellow-tinted lights burst into life around him, bright enough to dazzle a dark-sighted drow. A classic opening salvo. Unimaginative. And useless against him. One of his bracelets burned hot as it protected him against blindness. He threw an empty wineglass at the swordsman trying to charge him and flipped himself over the back of the couch. Right onto Artemis, who grunted as his elbow connected with his nose. 

“Artemis! Whenever did you decide to join the celebration?”

“Down!” Artemis shoved him flat as an arrow whistled overhead, half-pinning him to the floor. For a minute he couldn’t think straight between the pain of his poor battered arm and absolute glee. This wasn’t exactly where he would prefer for his _abbil_ to pin him down, but beggers couldn’t be choosers. 

“My hero.”

“I only want you alive so I can claim the contract on your head.”

“Of course you do, and I am the archpriestess ascendant.” 

Artemis pushed him down and peered up over the back of the chaise. The archer had wrapped a translucent scarf over their face to shield their eyes from the light. The other mercenaries were already upright. Even at a party, especially at a party all of them were armed and had drawn themselves into eight-man defensive formations, blinking through light-dazzled eyes. Spheres of darkness swallowed up the lights and the air split with whistled orders as the drow turned against the traitors in the midst. 

No small number of them laughed with delight. What was a burst of violence except entertainment for the evening? Two men tackled a would-be assassin to his left, cutting his throat as he fell. A panicked mage hurled his shoe at another, distracting them enough for three more mercenaries to drag him to the floor. Artemis jumped the couch and cut through the archer with remarkable efficiency of movement. 

And Jarlaxle felt the air to the left of him shift. 

Honestly. Folks thought invisibility made them – well, invisible. 

A viol swung past him, incongruous, and pelted into his treacherous underling with a crash of wood and the snapping of strings. Jarlaxle cackled and danced out of the way as Sya'n reappeared and swiped at him with a short sword. 

“Come now. Whatever has gotten into your head?” 

“They died because of you! They’d never had had the people to attack my house alone!”

Ah. Revenge. Jarlaxle suddenly felt very old. 

“Then they would have found some desperate commoners, or allied with another house, or kept back their younger sons or a generation or two.” If there was one thing he had learned in his long life it was that drow invariably found a way to harm one another. Often he had wondered what it would look like, if that all determination was turned towards liberating themselves. Saddest of all was that if Sya’n himself had perished, his family would have left him where he fell. No revenge sought for a son. They were infinitely replaceable. 

Artemis ended their brawl a good five minutes faster than Jarlaxle would have, running Sya’n through with a stolen sword. He looked almost surprised as he fell. No one down here expected to die at the hands of a human. That was part of what made the assassin so valuable.

"Sloppy," Artemis muttered so softly only Jarlaxle heard it.

He set his hat straight and lifted his voice. 

“Time to open another cask, I think.” This in turn leading to a near stampede as his fighters raced one another to the gigantic barrels in the corner. Much to his delight, Zai moved perpendicular to the main crowd, hovered briefly and then started to fuss at the wound on his arm. 

“I have a very good healing stone, in my caravan, if you would care to join me?”

Well, look who had decided to be brave! He did so like it when folk took the initiative. He hooked his arm through Zai’s and leaned into his shoulder, nearly purring.

“I would be delighted.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, come find me at HappyOrogeny on Tumblr!


End file.
